Page 33 of Property of BamBam
Plus, I’ve noticed that Marge seems to be mothering Buddy a bit. Not that his own mom isn’t still alive, she’s just not as involved with him as she should be as far as I’m concerned. Marge doesn’t baby him, however; no, she’s been using praise. The damn place was always clean as a whistle, but now, I swear if people wanted to, they could eat off the floor.
Shaking my head as I swing my leg over the saddle of my bike, I hold up the flyers I got from Issy this morning announcing the upcoming rodeo celebrating that fucktard who betrayed my brothers. While I still have my reservations about how Gage is going to be honored, I respect that Issy has forgiven him for the part he played in her kidnapping. As she’s said multiple times, he redeemed himself when he put his body in front of Rio’s and saved his life. I just wonder why he didn’t think he could’ve come to Rio if nothing else. He might not have been part of the club per se, but he grew up with both Issy and Rio, and I know my president. He would’ve helped Gage with or without us.
The irony ofthatsituation is that Gage’s sister moved away. She packed her shit and left Texas. While I’m sure Pokey has an idea of where she’s gone, the rest of us have no clue and to be honest, most of us don’t give a damn. We didn’t have any sort of bond with her, so her leaving wasn’t significant. I suspect she had more of their mother in her than Gage knew, which is a shame, because until he betrayed the club the way he did, he was a decent enough man.
I walk into the laundromat and smirk when I hear the music playing overhead. “The 70’s, Livy?” I tease as I make my way to the counter where she and Marge are separating an order to be laundered.
“What?” she retorts. “It’s good music, BamBam.”
“Give me some old-fashioned rock and roll,” I reply.
“BamBam! Look what Marge got me!” Buddy exclaims, coming from one of the washing machine aisles. I see he’s wearing a new lightweight T-shirt with the laundromat’s name and logo on it. “It’s much softer than the other ones I had.”
Marge leans in and whispers, “He would’ve never said a word to y’all, but the shirts he was wearing were bothering him. He’s got sensory issues.”
My brows raise at the older woman. Oh, she’s not much older than me if I had to take a guess, but it’s obvious from her demeanor that life has not been kind to her. “Y’all don’t have to wear shirts with the business name on them,” I state. “But thank you for noticing that because he’s a helluva hard worker.” To Buddy, I say, “Glad to hear it, man.”
“And Marge showed me how to clean the traps under the machines!” he adds, grinning from ear to ear.
“What traps?” I ask Marge.
“There are spaces and places under washers and dryers where sh-stuff builds up,” she replies. “We got in there when it wasn’t busy with a shop vac and sucked all of it out.”
“Good deal. Livy, do you have a few minutes?” I ask.
“She’s good to take her lunch if she wants to,” Marge says, grinning at me.
I watch my woman’s face turn pink as she tries to hush Marge and can’t help chuckling. “Yeah, that will work. Do y’all want us to grab y’all’s food and bring it back?”
Buddy’s eyes grow wide, and he starts nodding his head so fast, he looks like a bobblehead. Marge shakes her head no, until I tell her, “My treat. For coming in and seeing the need for another person. Consider it a perk of working at a Kings business.”
“Then yes, I’d appreciate that,” she says. “Buddy, I think today’s special is meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Is that what you want?”
I glance at Buddy and realize he looks a bit… trimmer than he did last week. Seems that with Marge around, he’s at least eating better. “Can I have sweet tea to drink and a piece of apple pie?”
“If you have ice cream now, you can’t have it after you have dinner, remember?” Marge asks. “So, the choice is up to you. Dessert now or after supper, but not both.”
Well damn, we’ve been trying to get him to eat healthier foryearsand in a matter of a week, Marge has him under her spell. Maybe she was a drill instructor in a former life or something, because as long as I’ve known Buddy, he’s always leaned toward fried foods.
“Are we going to the diner for dinner, too?” he asks her.
“Yes, we are, just like we do every night we work,” she replies.
“Then I’ll wait so we can stop for ice cream before you go home,” he decides.
“Livy? You ready?”
“Go on, you two. I’ve got Theo,” Marge says as she shoos us away with her hands. I give her a wink and she rolls her eyes as I take Livy’s hand in mine.
“How’s the apartment?” I ask once we’re seated in a booth at the back of the diner. “You and Theo settling in alright?”
Before she can answer, Thelma, one of the waitresses at the diner, walks over with a coffee pot and a carafe of water. I turn my coffee cup so she fills it, while Livy asks, “Can I have a Dr. Pepper, please? And some water?”
“Sure, darlin’. BamBam, do y’all know what you’re gonna want or do you need a few minutes?”
“Two of the lunch specials, Thelma. And we’re gonna need two of those to go as well,” I reply. “Buddy’s also wanting sweet tea.”
She chuckles while writing everything down, then asks, “Do you want me to leave the coffee or the water?”
